


Not Looking for a Miracle (Just a Reason to Believe)

by saekokato



Series: Wild Times and Glitter [3]
Category: Bandom: The Academy Is..., Jonas Brothers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-25
Updated: 2010-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekokato/pseuds/saekokato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein our heroes are arrested by the FBI, Kevin is hot when he's infuriated, Bill is still crazy, and Mike and Nick play nice.  Sort of.</p><p><i> So they go to bed.  Kevin to his side, Mike to the other, and a foot of space between them where they'd normally be curled together.  </i></p><p><i>Mike doesn't sleep.  He's pretty sure Kevin doesn't either.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Looking for a Miracle (Just a Reason to Believe)

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by the awesome [Roseclaw](http://roseclaw.livejournal.com). For my Skippy bingo square, "FBI/Police". This takes place a few years after [From Days of Yore](http://community.livejournal.com/kato_fiction/6918.html). Title from Savage Garden's 'Hold Me'.

Kevin glares at Mike. Mike isn't exactly sure _why_. It isn't his fault that the restaurant Kevin had chosen had been raided by the FBI – since when did the fucking FBI raid fucking _restaurants_ , anyway? Especially during dinner hours? Didn't they usually go for the whole not involving civilians routine?

Fuck, Mike had voted for staying in tonight; Kevin had been the one desperate to get out of the apartment.

"What, Jonas?" Mike grumbles. He's trying to shift so that a) the cuffs aren't digging into his back and b) his hands aren't crushed into the back of the seat. 'Trying' being the operative word, what with Kevin shifting forward as soon as the agent slammed the door, pinning Mike against the door with both his body and his glare.

"You got us arrested, Mike!" Kevin half-shouts. "By the FBI!"

"This isn't my fault," Mike protests. It really isn't. Mike understands Kevin being a little freaked out – it isn't like he'd ever been arrested before – but there's freaked out and there's being crazy.

"You antagonized them!" Kevin snaps. "They were going to let us go with the rest of the innocent bystanders but no! You had to _antagonize_ them!"

Mike frowns. "The guy insulted you. What was I supposed to do?"

"Shut up! You were supposed to shut up! Then make it up to me at home. Where there are no FBI agents to arrest us!" Kevin shoves forward an extra inch, which Mike hadn't thought possible, so now Mike can feel Kevin's breath on his lips.

Mike doubts Kevin would take it well if Mike were to, say, kiss him right then. Kevin is hot when he's pissed.

"Not get us arrested like petty fucking criminals!"

Yeah. He wouldn't take that well at all.

"I don't think the FBI deals with petty criminals," Mike points out. Which, in retrospect, isn't Mike's brightest move. Mostly because Kevin's eyes go all crazy-like and he growls – actually _growls_ \- like he wants to tear Mike's throat out with his teeth.

Kevin is _ridiculously_ hot when he's pissed. Too bad the back of an FBI sedan isn't the best place for a hard-on.

Kevin agrees. "Oh, that's rich," he mutters as he awkwardly shifts back along the seat to the other door. "If my parents or Nick don't kill you, I will."

Mike grins at him. "Awww, c'mon, kid. Think of it as a compliment."

" _Dead_ ," Kevin stresses. Then he turns to look out the window and refuses to talk to Mike again.

Not that it really matters. The FBI agents that cuffed them climb into the front of the car before Mike can say anything else.

|-|

Other than to demand his legal representation for the both of them, Kevin refuses to say anything to anyone the entire time they're in FBI custody.

Mike, having been (falsely, no matter what stories Bill or Pete or Conrad try to tell) caught on the wrong side of the law once or twice before, can't fault the kid for staying quiet. It is the smart thing to do, and no matter who Kevin played in that Disney show, Kevin isn't an idiot.

No, what bothers Mike the most (aside from the whole 'arrested by the FBI' part) is that Kevin won't even look at him.

|-|

"What have I told you about the proper care and feeding of your Jonas, Michael?" is the first thing Bill says to Mike when he shows up to take the two of them home.

Mike rolls his eyes as he pulls his jacket on. "No, Bill, this isn't a question of Fate or any of your other ridiculous ideas. Just a simple misunderstanding."

That has to be one of Mike's more elaborate understatements. Kevin has really good lawyers. Lawyers that are forcing the agent who called Kevin "Poodle Boy" to formally apologize – in both written and verbal format – for the insult. The FBI as a whole also has to formally apologize, with a press statement, for allowing one of their agents to abuse their power over the innocent citizens of Chicago.

After all, Mike had only been defending Kevin's honor.

Mike would feel sorry for them losing out on all the good press for shutting down a massive, billion dollar, fifteen year long smuggling scam, but he firmly believes they deserve all the flak for being assholes.

Bill shakes his head. "One day you will learn, my friend, and that will indeed be a very sad day for you. I will find it hilarious, but it truly will suck to be you."

"Sure, Bill. Whatever you say," Mike sighs. He is too fucking tired to deal with Bill's special brand of crazy right now. "Can we go now?"

"We just have to collect your Jonas," Bill says. He walks over to where Kevin is still talking with his lawyers and slings an arm around Kevin's shoulders. Bill says something that has the lawyers staring at him – Mike really doesn't want to know, but judging by the look Kevin shoots his way, he'll be getting an earful later anyway – and pulls Kevin away.

"All right. You two are officially sprung," Bill says as he leads them to his car. "Butcher has already commandeered your car from the restaurant, so I am left to drive you two lovebirds home. No blood on the seats, please. I've just had them cleaned."

|-|

They go to bed pretty much right after they wave Bill away. Mike, for all that he hates having Talks, as he rarely comes out on top, knows that they should probably clear the air before they let it fester, but Kevin has a meeting with the Disney suits and the lawyers first thing in the morning. A meeting that is in six hours and that Mike has been pointedly not invited to.

Also, Kevin is really working the cold shoulder.

So they go to bed. Kevin to his side, Mike to the other, and a foot of space between them where they'd normally be curled together.

Mike doesn't sleep. He's pretty sure Kevin doesn't either.

|-|

Mike tries once to break the silence. He's going a little stir crazy staring at the shadows above the bed. Two hours worth of staring.

He gets as far as "Kev…" before he's cut off with a rough, "No. You don't get to. Not right now."

Mike can respect that, after a fashion. He doesn't particularly like it, but he'll respect it. So he goes back to watching the ceiling shadows trying to mate.

|-|

Nick calls Mike around ten the next morning. Kevin's been at his meetings for two hours already and Mike is sitting on the couch trying to figure out how to convince Kevin to talk to him.

Mike has no problem admitting that he's pretty fucking whipped.

"You got my brother arrested. By the _FBI_."

"Yes, hello, Nick. Nice to fucking hear from you, too," Mike says. Mike isn't the biggest fan of Nick Jonas. Mike likes Joe, and he unabashedly thinks Frankie is the bomb, but Nick sets his nerves on edge. It all ties back into how Nick reacted when Perez outed Mike and Kevin six months prior, which wasn't in any way what Mike would call brotherly. But Mike promised Kevin to try to be civil. "What the fuck do you want?"

Well, civil for Mike, anyway.

"You got my brother _arrested by the FBI_ ," Nick repeats.

"Actually, the FBI arrested the both of us without probable cause," Mike corrects. "A mistake that the lawyers are making them rue right this very moment. Neither Kevin nor I had anything to do with it."

Nick makes a strangled noise. "Being a smart ass will not help your case, Carden."

Mike rolls his eyes at the muted TV. "If you're looking to have another one of those rousing conversations where you threaten my life, littlest, save it."

"You don't deserve him, Carden."

"Neither do you," Mike returns evenly. "Now, as riveting as this conversation is, I'm ending it."

Mike tosses his phone onto the coffee table. He looks around the living room slash dining room slash entryway at all the piles of junk and climbs to his feet. He might as well tackle some of the cleaning they'd been meaning to get to while he waits for Kevin to return and not talk to him.

|-|

"Joe says you hung up on Nick," Kevin says. "Again."

They're sitting at opposite ends of the sofa eating the Thai takeout Kevin had brought back with him. It's the first thing Kevin has said to Mike all day that doesn't have anything to do with how Disney wants to handle damage control.

(Pete had called Mike right about when Mike had been contemplating attacking the bathroom with bleach. Mostly Pete'd just laughed at him. Then he told Mike that everyone was behind the two of them one hundred percent and to let Disney do as it wished for damage control.

Mike has a bad feeling that Pete is going to get together with the rest of TAI… to make a ridiculous episode of TAI…TV, complete with a new song glamorizing the entire incident. He'd worry about it, but he's well aware of how futile that would be.)

Mike shrugs. "I wasn't interested in listening to him rant." Mike understands that Kevin doesn't like that he and Nick no longer seem to be able to get along, but Mike isn't going to let the little asshole have the upper hand. Mike is willing to do a lot for Kevin but pandering to a spoiled child isn't something Mike is down with doing for any reason.

Kevin stabs at the innards of his takeout box. "You don't have to fight with him, you know."

"I know," Mike agrees. "Which is why I hung up on him. Avoiding temptation and all."

"Mike, seriously."

"I'm sorry, kid, but Nick and I are only ever going to get along if he actually has that stick pulled out of his ass," Mike says.

"You could try a little harder."

Mike raises an eyebrow. Kevin rolls his eyes and goes back to contemplating his food.

"You want to talk about what's really bothering you?" Mike asks when all the takeout containers are piled in a sad, decimated pile on the coffee table. Mike is trying very hard not to think about how long it had taken him to scrub the table down that afternoon.

"Not really," Kevin tells him.

"How about you try it anyway," Mike says.

Kevin shrugs. "What's there to talk about?" He picks at a loose thread on the arm of the couch.

Mike rolls his eyes. "Kid, I love you, but petulant isn't something that looks good on anyone."

"I'm not petulant," Kevin protests.

"Okay, we'll play the word game," Mike says. He swings his feet onto the couch and leans back against the arm of the couch. "You don't like 'petulant' so we'll go with grumpy. Or grouchy. Or bitchy. Huffy? Sulky? How about stewing? That one doesn't get a lot of play anymore. Hmmm. What else? Actually, I think bitchy pretty much covers it."

Kevin, who had been stewing like a gathering thunderstorm since the cuffs were first slapped on, stands up in a huff. "There's no need to be an ass, Michael." Kevin picks up his discarded takeout boxes and stomps off to the kitchen.

Seriously. Kevin actually stomps his feet like he's a three year old mid-temper tantrum. He can't even blame his boots for making his footsteps sound extra-heavy as he's barefoot. Mike stares after him and listens to him slam around the kitchen for a few minutes before Mike climbs to his feet and takes his own trash to the kitchen.

Kevin ignores him right up until Mike finishes throwing things out, putting other things away, and wiping the counter down (Mike just cleaned. He refuses to let the dirt accumulate that quickly. He can go back to being lazy in a few days.). Granted, Mike blocking him in against the wall next to the fridge doesn't really give Kevin much of a choice, but Mike doesn't really care. He doesn't want to spend another night staring at the ceiling and freezing his ass off despite the covers.

"Look, okay. Last night sucked. I'm sorry that we ended up in FBI custody and that you spent all of today being told that I suck and that you'd be better off without me," Mike says. He's mostly sorry about the last part. Being arrested isn't anything to write home about, but watching Kevin while his lawyers tore strips out of the Federal Bureau of Investigations was definitely something Mike is glad to have witnessed.

Mike's boyfriend is fucking hot when he's pissed.

"And I'm sorry you're upset about all of it," Mike concludes.

Kevin glares at him. "What. That's it?"

"Was there something in particular you wanted to hear?" Mike raises an eyebrow. "Despite Sisky's claims to the contrary, I do not read minds, kid."

"You are such an asshole." Kevin brings his hands up to Mike's shoulders and shoves him backwards. Mike had expected this course of action but he hadn't expected Kevin to push hard enough to actually move him.

He also didn't expect Kevin to stomp out of the room or to hear their bedroom door slam shut a minute later.

"Fuck."

|-|

A handful of hours later and Mike is staring at the shadows making their way across the living room ceiling. They aren't any more interesting than the ones in the bedroom.

|-|

"I take it that you haven't bothered to apologize," Michael says over an early brunch.

"No, I did that," Mike tells him. He pokes at the pepper shaker and the pepper shaker doesn't budge. Obviously it is about as impressed with Mike as Kevin currently is. Mike sighs. "He called me an asshole, then locked me out of the bedroom. We seriously need to replace our couch."

Michael raises an eyebrow at him. "I know this may be out of your realm of experience, but have you thought about this from his point of view?"

Mike scowls. "It wasn't my fault we were arrested - he's the one who wanted to go to the damn restaurant anyway."

"That's a no," Michael says. He smiles at the waitress as she puts their plates on the table. "Thank you, Keri."

"No problem, sweetie," she tells him. "If you need anything else, just holler. I'll be behind the counter rearranging the jams." She leaves after Michael assures her they would keep that in mind.

"You shouldn't flirt with the waitresses," Mike says. He picks up his fork and pokes at his eggs. They look about as appetizing as roadkill. "Naomi would have your balls."

Michael shrugs. "I wasn't flirting, she was. And Naomi doesn't need my balls - hers have enough steel for three."

Mike rolls his eyes. He has no idea why he called Michael up for brunch. Despite being the only relatively sane member of their band - a point which has been called into contention on a number of occasions because of his legal citizenship - Michael isn't very good with advice. Or, actually, he is very good with advice but not of the type anyone ever wants to take. Seriously, how often can a person grovel at the feet of their significant before their pride takes a serious blow?

Granted, there is nothing wrong with Michael's pride, and he happens to be in the most solid marriage Mike has ever witnessed, so maybe there is something to his tactics.

"You haven't considered this from his point of view," Michael says, breaking into Mike's thoughts. "From what I've been able to gather, you went off like a jealous husband, embarrassing the both of you and getting the both of you arrested, which is making Kevin's life hell between the publicity, his handlers, and his family. And you expect to be patted on the head like you did a good job."

"That's not what happened," Mike protests. He doesn't bother asking about Michael's sources. Mike's better off not knowing. "And I wasn't acting like a jealous husband - I was defending Kevin."

Michael raises his eyebrow again. He doesn't say anything, just takes a sip of his tea.

"Fuck you, I wasn't," Mike says. He stabs the egg yolk, watching as it bleeds yellow over his plate until his toast soaks it up. "The FBI guy was a dick; I told him he needed to stow his shit and apologize."

"You couldn't have just let the comments pass?" Michael asks. The nice thing about talking things out with Michael was he didn't let his own opinions color the topic. Makes him an awesome sounding board. "Kevin never bothers with it when the press says that stuff."

Mike glares. "Kevin has to deal with that shit because he chooses to. And he knows that the press doesn't know shit about him or his brothers. But he still sees a badge when he looks at a cop, not the dickshits behind them."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Michael says.

Mike shakes his head "It isn't a bad thing. But he shouldn't have to feel like shit because some overgrown bully with a badge decides he's an easy target."

"Sounds like you were trying to protect his innocence."

"It isn't that simple, and you know it. Kevin still respects cops; he shouldn't have to think to fear them."

Michael hums absently, swirling the last of his tea around his mug. "Have you told him that?"

Mike sighs. "Yeah. Like he'd believe me."

"I don't know." Michael raises an eyebrow again. "It's stupid enough reasoning to almost be actually plausible."

|-|

"You're an idiot and an asshole," Nick says when Mike picks up his call. "But Kevin still seems determined to keep you around."

"Kevin loves me," Mike tells him. Mike ignores the glare from the kid next to him and keeps flipping through the pile of records. Stump's birthday is coming up, and Mike still hasn't found anything. The fucker is ridiculously hard to buy for. Mike keeps hoping to come across a record of _Dirty Mind_ because apparently Patrick's copy was accidentally destroyed in the great Saporta/McCoy/Wentz/Trohman Prank War of '08, but it's like the record doesn't exist outside of ridiculously priced eBay auctions.

"A fact I still cannot wrap my head around," Nick mutters.

"One day, Nicolas, you will find the girl or boy of your dreams, and then you, too, will understand," Mike says absently. _Dirty Mind_ might be out of the question but a second printing of _Controversy_? Mike grins. "Stump only has a third printing, sweet."

"What are you talking about?" Nick snaps. "A third printing of what?"

"You caught me in the middle of shopping for birthday presents, Jonas," Mike says. He tucks the record under his arm and flips through the remainder of the stack. He's sure that he won't be lucky enough to find the record he was looking for, but it never hurts to look. "I've found Stump a second printing of Prince's _Controversy_ \- if you still haven't found something suitable, he's in need of a copy of _Dirty Mind_."

"You decided that now is the best time for you to go shopping?" Nick asks. Mike's sure he's probably trying to sound imitating and threatening, but Mike has never found Nick to be imitating or threatening in the least.

Mostly Mike thinks he's a spoiled, selfish, self-entitled prick in need of a good ass kicking. He'd tried to arrange one for Nick's last birthday, but Kevin found out about it and cut it off at the knees.

"What? Would you prefer I sit at home wallowing until your brother decides to give me the time of day again?" Mike asks. He waffles over a rare '80s band recording that his father might like, before deciding against it until he can find out if his father likes or even knows the band.

"He deserves as much."

Mike rolls his eyes. "Was there a point to this phone call, or have all your friends decided they were sick of the sound of your voice and you felt the need to spread the misery to me?"

"You are so very funny, Carden."

Mike grins at the cashier as he hands the record over. "I like to think so."

He waves the phone at the cashier when she raises an eyebrow at him. He mouths, _Sorry. Little brother._

The cashier giggles. "Yeah, mine is such a brat. That's $10.50."

Mike hands over the cash and takes his bag with a smile. The cashier gives him a little wave as he leaves the store and he's still shaking his head when he puts the phone back to his ear. He interrupts Nicks' rant with a sigh. "I haven't heard a thing you've said, littlest. Want to give me the summary or should I spare us a both the headache and hang up now?"

Nick falls silent with a grumble. Mike can hear a finger taping against something and he decides to wait Nick out instead of giving in to his first impulse to hang up on the little brat. It takes a minute that Mike spends wandering his way to the closest El stop.

"I just want my brother to be happy," Nick sighs miserably.

Mike stops in the middle of the sidewalk at the sound. Mike's never really given much thought to the physical similarities between the brothers Jonas - they're brothers, and they love each other, though Mike himself only really cares for three out of the four, and that's all Mike had really cared to know. But now. Nick sounds exactly like Kevin when Kevin is sad and worried about his brothers, and the sound pulls at Mike's gut as if it were Kevin who said it.

Mike rubs his forehead and starts walking again, before someone tries to shove him, or worse, for blocking the path. "You're not the only one, Nick."

"Then why are you hurting him?" Nick asks. He sounds like a little kid asking his mother why the dog ran away.

"I'm trying not to, littlest," Mike sighs. "I'm only human." He pauses at the entrance of the El and leans against a wall out of the way of traffic. "And I need to pin him down first."

Nick snorts. "Good luck with that, Carden. Kevin's the best at hide and seek, and he hides when he's hurt." He almost sounds like himself again.

"I thought Frank was the best at hide and seek?"

"No, that's just what Disney wants people to think."

"Ah," Mike says. They fall silent for a minute, two. Mike watches the people passing him and wonders if Kevin is somewhere doing the same thing. "Well, that was a nice moment."

Nick hums in agreement. "Too bad no one else was around to witness it."

"Yeah, no one will believe it," Mike agrees. He watches an elderly man help his wife through the door of a deli across the street. Then he tells himself to grow a set of balls. "You have any ideas for pinning Kevin down, littlest? In the spirit of us actually getting along, of course."

Nick laughs. "You've balls, Carden, I'll give you that."

Mike snorts. "How the fuck else do you think I managed to catch Kevin's interest, let alone keep it?"

"I have no idea about the second part, but the first is simple," Nick admits. "By being a dirty rockstar; Kevin totally has a type."

"Funny that. Joe specifically told me that 'dirty rockstar' wasn't Kevin's type," Mike says, thinking back to that day on tour and the blinding whiteness of Joe's jeans.

"Not in girls, no. Guys? Totally," Nick says. "It was one of the reasons Mom and Dad were worried about joining the Wild Times and Glitter Tour – not the biggest but one of them."

"I'm guessing the biggest was Pete," Mike says. Mike loves the guy, but he isn't exactly what most of the conservative portion of the country would call 'parent friendly.'

"Nah, they like Pete. Think he's a sound business man," Nick says. "Now, My Chem? They're still a little iffy on the whole sex, drugs, and vampire portions of rock and roll."

"Um. Right," Mike says. He is officially filing this conversation under 'weirdest shit that has ever happened to him that he did not expect'. The shit he's seen and done since joining Decaydance has forced him to have an 'expect' and a 'didn't except' separation.

"Weird, I know," Nick admits. "But Gerard totally won them over with his earnestness. It was… special."

Mike grunts. Special? Yeah, he bets. "As riveting as your parents opinions of the Way brothers is turning out to be, do you have any ideas for me?"

Mike can practically hear Nick rolling his eyes. "Kevin has a tendency to hole up in places he feels safe. As far as I know, he's still in Chicago. Know of any place that qualifies?"

Mike sighs. "I can think of a few."

"Good," Nick says. "Fix this, Carden. It'd suck to have to break Kevin's heart when I'm forced to kill you." And then he hangs up.

Mike shakes his head as he thumbs the call closed. The things he's had to deal with because he fell for a Jonas Brother.

|-|

Though Kevin and Mike moved into a brand new apartment together roughly a year before, Chicago was still more home to Mike than to Kevin. Not surprisingly, considering Chicago's been Mike's home all of his life, and Kevin's home is more people oriented. That said, there aren't many places in Chicago where Kevin feels safe – the apartment is out, and Mike doubts Kevin is hanging around at the indie bookshop and café he loves. It'd be too crowded at this time of the year with all the kids back in college.

That leaves the various apartments around the city, family and friends who, for the most part, think Kevin's far too good for Mike. Not that Mike is going to disagree with them.

So Mike makes a few phone calls and sends a few texts, and within an hour he has his search narrowed down to three places: Patrick's, Bill's, and Mike's mom's. Mike knows that Kevin has a key to all three places, but Kevin isn't likely to go somewhere without the owner home – despite having expression permission from all three to show up anytime he pleased – so that leaves out both Mike's mom's, who is out of town visiting her sister, and Patrick, who is in LA working with Pete on… something. Mike honestly hadn't bothered asking just what.

Also, Bill texted him something about fluffy bunnies and sing-a-longs that Mike didn't bother trying to make heads or tails of. He understood the meaning.

|-|

Mike doesn't actually make it into Bill's apartment before Bill is looming over him, glaring like Mike had killed both Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. "Michael Carden, I expected better than this of you. I am ashamed, Michael. Ashamed and _appalled_."

"Hello, Bill. I see you're in fine form today," Mike says, pushing his way through the doorway. "Where's Kevin?"

Bill hovers over Mike's shoulder as he turns and locks the door. "I don't believe you are deserving of that information, Michael."

Mike rolls his eyes. "Awesome, Bill. Glad to hear I have your support. Kevin's probably out on the balcony, right? I think I'll just check there first, anyway."

"You will do no such thing, Michael." Bill shifts so that he's standing directly in Mike's path, which, granted, shouldn't be that much of an issue, considering it's _Bill_ , but Mike stops anyway. He might as well hear what it is that Bill has to say.

Sometimes the crazy even makes a vague sort of sense.

"You will not be allowed near the young Jonas unless I am satisfied that you will do no more mangling of his poor, precious heart," Bill continues. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares Mike down.

After a minute or so of silence, Mike final asks, "What?"

Bill flaps a hand at him. "Convince me!" His tone conveys the 'you idiot!' quite nicely.

Mike rolls his eyes again. "I'm going to talk to him, Bill, not throw him over the railing. Fuck, you do know me better than that."

Bill doesn't look at all deterred. "Yes. Yes, I do. Which is why you are going to tell me your intentions, Michael."

Mike rubs a hand over his forehead. "Bill, seriously. Fuck off." He fakes a step to the left, and when Bill shifts to block him, Mike sidesteps him to the right, his pace quick so that Bill's freakishly long reach doesn't snag him and drag him back for more inane questions.

Seriously, Mike loves Bill and all, but his special brand of crazy is really fucking special.

"Do not make me hire someone to beat you to death, Michael!" Bill shouts down the hallway after him. Mike flicks a hand in the air to show that he heard him. He's found that, sometimes, it is best to just humor the guy.

He does find Kevin out on the balcony. Kevin's curled up on one of the chairs with one of Bill's spare acoustics, and he doesn't even look up when Mike slides the door open.

"Who was at the door, Bill?" Kevin asks absently. It's obvious that he's pretty well focused on the tune he's picking out – slow, methodical, and angry. It isn't exactly Kevin's general brand of music.

Mike slides the door shut again – he does not want Bill listening in on this conversation, much less him trying to record it – and he leans against it while he listens to Kevin play. It's definitely one of Kevin's compositions as Mike has heard something similar in various forms over the last couple of weeks, and it sounds good. Really good.

"Sounds good, kid," he says after a minute. He isn't exactly expecting Kevin to just keep playing – Kevin is meticulously polite about not fiddling with any instrument when someone is talking to him – but the discordant sound that comes from the guitar when Kevin jerks his head upwards is definitely not the reaction Mike had been going for. "Not that, mind you."

"What are you doing here?" Kevin asks. He shifts in his seat, clutching the guitar for a brief moment before he slides it back into its case. He doesn't look up at Mike, even after the guitar is put away, and he stands up to lean against the railing.

"What do you think, Kevin?" Mike asks. He pushes off of the glass door with his shoulder and leans on the same railing as Kevin, only leaving about a foot of space between them. He's a tiny bit thrilled that Kevin doesn't move further away from him. "I came looking for you."

Kevin hums under his breath but doesn't answer him. He just keeps looking out over the semi-busy street, with all of the little shops and cafes and bodegas that Bill sang the phrases of when he first found this apartment. Mike watches him.

Kevin looks tired, a lot more than can be accounted for by two nights of too little sleep. Mike knows Kevin's been stressing about getting back into the studio with his brothers, especially with all of the new restrictions Disney's been trying to lay on them (Kevin) because of the whole 'out and proud' bit. Mike's been trying to be supportive. In his own way, but Mike's way of handling such heavy-handed handling isn't anything like how Kevin does. They're just too different, personality wise.

Mike can admit that maybe he'd been a little too adamant that Kevin speak his mind, to push to have things done fairly for all involved – after all, Kevin and his brothers had made _millions_ for Disney, and the company knows it. Mike just doesn't like seeing the people he loves, fuck. No.

Mostly it's that Mike can't stand the way people try to walk all over Kevin. Kevin ignores it and finds ways to work around them, mostly, but Mike can't really wrap his head around it. He isn't the type to take a fight laying down, and he knows first hand that Kevin is more of a fighter than he lets on. It's just that more often than not, Kevin doesn't fight. Most of the time, Mike can respect that.

It's all those other times that Mike finds that it causes problems.

"I said I was sorry," Mike starts.

Kevin snorts. "Yes, Mike. You did. And acting like a petulant child is such a great way of proving you're sincere." He glances quick over his shoulder and gives Mike a thoroughly unimpressed look.

His boyfriend is so fucking _hot_ when he's pissed.

Mike can't help grinning back at him. Thankfully, Kevin had already turned his head again.

"I said I was sorry," he repeats. Kevin huffs out a breath, but Mike continues before he can say anything. "And I am. I didn't mean for us to be arrested, and I sure as hell didn't mean to upset you like I have. I just did what I thought I should have done. And I'm sorry that you disagree with my actions, but I'm never, _ever_ , going to apologize for defending you. I love you, Kevin, but I can't do that."

"I didn't need you to defend me," Kevin says after a few minutes have passed. He even turns his body so they're mostly facing each other. "I don't most of the time. You understand that right? I am more than capable of defending myself."

"I do get that," Mike says. He shifts on his feet and wishes he wasn't trying to quit smoking again. It'd be nice to have something to do with his hands, especially given that Kevin probably wouldn't be all that receptive to Mike touching him. "That's what frustrates me so much."

"What? You want me to be some sort of damsel in distress?" Kevin asks.

Mike snorts. "Yeah, right. Not a chance, kid. You aren't cut out for that shit."

"Then what do you mean?" Kevin asks. He lifts his hands just enough so that Mike can clearly see that he's making quote signs with his fingers. "If I 'frustrate you so much'?"

"Kid, you've been frustrating me since the day I met you," Mike tells him. And Kevin has. Only, that's a completely different type of frustration than Mike's trying to get at. "What I meant was that you're more than capable of defending yourself. I've seen you do it. But it frustrates me that you don't do it _enough_. Seven times out of ten? You back down from a fight. Fights you could easily win."

"Winning isn't always the point, Mike," Kevin points out. "And I don't like fighting. Not if it isn't worth it. Or for a good enough reason."

Mike sighs. "I get that. I don't particularly like it, but I get it."

"Then the shit with the FBI?" Kevin prompts. "That wasn't a fight either of us needed to deal with, and you know it."

"Maybe not 'needed'," Mike says. "But I was just supposed to stand there and let some fucking moron with a suit and a badge belittle you to make himself feel better? Yeah, fuck you, no. I went toe-to-fucking-toe with your mother, Kevin. An arrogant, small-dicked FBI agent is child's play."

"Sticks and stones, Mike," Kevin says. He twists the promise ring Mike had given him around his finger. "Other people's opinions aren't worth it. Not when they aren't sticking around."

"Bullshit," Mike says. He waves a hand in the air when Kevin frowns at him. "Okay, yes, normally I'd agree with you, because then we'd be talking about the tabloids and stupid gossipy shit. But a person saying shit like that to your face? Our faces? And watching you react like that? Fuck no. I'd have beat his face in if I'd had the chance."

"You know, that's vaguely sweet," Kevin says. "In a completely ass backward, no logic type sense."

Mike shrugs, trying for nonchalant. He's not sure that he's all that successful, what with the way Kevin's smiling at him again. It's a small smile, but it's more than Mike's had in a while, and he's missed it. "That's me: Completely Ass Backward, No Logic Type Man."

Kevin laughs and he reaches out to punch Mike in the shoulder. "I'm still mad at you."

"Yeah, I figured," Mike says. He catches Kevin's hand and pulls him against him. Kevin doesn't fight it – and Mike makes certain to keep his hold loose enough for Kevin to break free easily – but he does fix Mike with a look that says Kevin isn't fooled at all.

"You really shouldn't have done that, you know."

"I'd do it again," Mike says. Because he doesn't disagree with Kevin – yelling at and threatening a Federal Agent isn't exactly the brightest plan ever – but he also knows himself better than to think that he would have ever done anything different.

Kevin cocks his head and watches Mike for a minute. Mike just watches him back. "Yeah. You would, wouldn't you?"

"Kid, I made nice with the littlest," Mike says. "Fighting off FBI agents is easy-peasy."

"I'm still pissed," Kevin points out.

"Okay." Mike nods. "That means we can have angry sex, and then when you're too tired to be upset, we can work on the make up sex."

Kevin groans. "Such an asshole."

"Yeah, yeah," Mike says. He grins at Kevin, and darts in to kiss the tip of his nose before he has a chance to pull away. "But you love me anyway."


End file.
